“You’re so motherly,” teased Avery, echoing my thoughts.
For whatever reason, Lissa took Adrian’s “responsible” comment personally, like he was directly slamming her. I didn’t think that was the case at all, but she wasn’t really thinking all that clearly. Deciding she wanted some food herself, she got up and wandered over to the table in the courtyard’s garden that had trays of appetizers on it. Well, it had earlier. Now the table was being used by the dancing girls Lissa had noticed before. Someone had cleared space by moving all the trays of food to the ground. Lissa leaned over and picked up a mini sandwich, watching the girls and wondering how they could find any sort of beat in that royal guy’s horrible music.
One of the girls spotted Lissa and grinned. She extended a hand. “Hey, come on up.”
Lissa had met her once but couldn’t recall her name. Dancing suddenly seemed like a great idea. Lissa finished the sandwich and, drink in hand, allowed herself to be pulled up. This got a few cheers from people gathered around. Lissa discovered that the crappy music was irrelevant and found herself getting into it. Her and the other girls’ moves varied from overtly sexual to mockeries of disco. It was all fun, and Lissa wondered if Avery would claim this would haunt her in ten years too.
After a while, she and the others actually attempted some synchronized moves. They started by swaying their arms in the air and then moved on to some chorus line kicks. Those kicks proved disastrous. A misstep—Lissa was wearing heels—suddenly sent her over the table’s edge. She lost the drink and nearly collapsed before a pair of arms caught her and kept her upright. “My hero,” she muttered. Then she got a good look at her savior’s face. “Aaron?”
Lissa’s ex-boyfriend—and the first guy she’d ever slept with—looked down at her with a smile and released her once he seemed certain she could stand. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, Aaron was handsome in a surfer kind of way. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Mia had seen him. She, Aaron, and Lissa had once been involved in a triangle worthy of any soap opera.
“What are you doing here? We thought you disappeared,” Lissa said. Aaron had left the Academy a few months ago.
“I’m going to school out in New Hampshire,” he replied. “We’re here visiting family.”
“Well, it’s great to see you,” said Lissa. Things hadn’t ended well between them, but in her current state, she meant her words. She’d had enough booze to think it was great to see everyone at the party.
“You too,” he said. “You look amazing.”
His words struck her more than she would have expected, probably because everyone else here had implied that she looked trashed and irresponsible. And breakup or no, she couldn’t help but recall how attractive she’d once found him. Honestly, she still found him attractive. She just didn’t love him anymore.
“You should stay in touch,” she said. “Let us know what’s going on.” For a moment, she wondered if she should have said that, in light of having a boyfriend. Then she dismissed her worries. There was nothing wrong with hanging out with other guys—particularly since Christian hadn’t cared enough to come with her on this trip.
“I’d like that,” Aaron said. There was something in his eyes she found pleasurably disconcerting. “I don’t suppose, though, that I could get a goodbye kiss, seeing as I rescued you and all?”
The idea was preposterous—then, after a moment, Lissa laughed. What did it matter? Christian was the one she loved, and a kiss between friends would mean nothing. Looking up, she let Aaron lean down and cup her face. Their lips met, and there was no denying it: The kiss lasted a
bit
longer than a friendly one. When it ended, Lissa found herself smiling like a dazed schoolgirl—which, technically, she was.
“See you around,” she said, heading back toward her friends.
Avery wore a chastising look, but it wasn’t over Aaron and the kiss. “Are you crazy? You nearly broke your leg. You can’t do that kind of thing.”
“You’re supposed to be the fun one,” pointed out Lissa. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Fun isn’t the same as stupid,” Avery retorted, face serious. “You can’t go do stupid shit like that. I think we should get you home.”
“I’m fine,” said Lissa. She stubbornly looked away from Avery and instead focused on some guys who were doing shots of tequila. They were having some sort of competition—and half of them looked ready to pass out.
“Define ‘fine,’” said Adrian wryly. Yet he looked concerned too.
“I’m fine,” Lissa repeated. Her gaze snapped back to Avery. “I didn’t get hurt at all.” She’d expected grief about Aaron and was surprised they hadn’t given it to her—which made it even more surprising when it came from another source.
“You kissed that guy!” exclaimed Jill, leaning forward. Her face was aghast, and she displayed none of her usual reticence.
“It was nothing,” said Lissa, who was irked to have Jill reprimanding her of all people. “Certainly none of
your
business.”
“But you’re with Christian! How could you do that to him?”
“Relax, Jailbait,” said Avery. “A drunken kiss is nothing compared to a drunken fall. God knows I’ve kissed plenty of guys drunk.”
“And yet, I remain unkissed tonight,” mused Adrian, with a shake of his head.
“It doesn’t matter.” Jill was really worked up. She’d grown to like and respect Christian. “You cheated on him.”
With those words, Jill might as well have practiced her right hook on Lissa. “I did not!” Lissa exclaimed. “Don’t drag your crush on him into this and imagine things that aren’t there.”
“I didn’t imagine that kiss,” said Jill, flushing.
“That kiss is the least of our worries,” sighed Avery. “I’m serious—just let it go for now, you guys. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But—” began Jill.
“You heard her. Let it go,” a new voice growled. Reed Lazar had appeared out of nowhere and was looming over Jill, face as hard and scary as ever.
Jill’s eyes went wide. “I’m just telling the truth. . . .” I had to admire her courage here, considering her normally timid nature.
“You’re pissing everyone off,” said Reed, leaning closer and clenching his fists. “And you’re pissing me off.” I was pretty sure this was the most I’d ever heard him say. I tended to kind of think of him as a caveman, stringing three-word sentences together.
“Whoa.” Adrian leapt up and rushed to Jill’s side. “
You
need to let this go. What, are you going to start a fight with some girl?”
Reed turned his glare on Adrian. “Stay out of this.”
“The hell I will! You’re crazy.”
If anyone had asked me to make up a list of people most likely to risk a fight in defense of a lady’s honor, Adrian Ivashkov would have been low on that list. Yet there he stood, face hard and hand sitting protectively on Jill’s shoulder. I was in awe. And impressed.
“Reed,” cried Avery. She too had risen and now stood on Jill’s other side. “She didn’t mean anything. Back off.”
The two siblings stood there, eyes locked in some kind of silent showdown. Avery wore the harshest look I’d ever seen on her, and at last, he glowered and stepped back. “Fine. Whatever.”
The group stared in amazement as he walked abruptly away. The music was so loud that only a few of the partygoers had overhead the argument. They stopped and stared, and Avery looked embarrassed as she sank back in her chair. Adrian still stood by Jill. “What the hell was that?” Adrian demanded.
“I don’t know,” Avery admitted. “He gets weird and overprotective sometimes.” She gave Jill an apologetic smile. “I’m really sorry.”
Adrian shook his head. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
Even in her drunken state, Lissa had to agree. The confrontation with Reed had shocked her into soberness, and she was suddenly uneasily evaluating her actions tonight. The glittering lights and fancy cocktails of the party had lost their charm. The drunken antics of the other royals seemed clumsy and stupid. She had a feeling she might regret this party tomorrow.
Once back in my own head, I felt fear set in. Okay. Something was very wrong with Lissa, and no one else seemed to notice it—well, not to the extent they should have. Adrian and Avery did seem concerned, but I had the feeling they were blaming her behavior on the drinking. Lissa was still reminding me a lot of how she’d been when we’d first returned to St. Vladimir’s, when spirit had been seizing her and messing with her mind. Except . . . I knew enough about myself now to realize that my anger and fixation on punishing Strigoi was being influenced by spirit’s dark side too. That meant
I
was draining it away from her. It should have been leaving Lissa, not building up. So what was wrong with her? Where was this short-tempered, crazy, and jealous persona coming from? Was spirit’s darkness simply growing in intensity so that it spread to both of us? Were we splitting it?
“Rose?”
“Huh?” I glanced up from where I’d been staring blankly at the TV. Denis was looking down at me, his cell phone in his hand.
“Tamara had to work late. She’s ready to go now, but . . .”
He nodded toward the window. The sun was almost down, the sky purple, with only a little orange on the horizon. Tamara worked within walking distance, and while there probably wasn’t any real danger, I didn’t want her out alone after sunset. I stood up. “Come on, we’ll go get her.” To Lev and Artur I said, “You guys can stay here.”
Denis and I walked the half-mile to the small office where Tamara worked. She did assorted clerical tasks, like filing and copying, and there’d apparently been some project that kept her there late tonight. We met her at the door and walked back to the apartment without incident, talking animatedly about our hunting plans for the evening. When we reached Tamara’s building, I heard a strange wailing across the street. We all turned, and Denis chuckled.
“Good God, it’s that crazy woman again,” I muttered.
Tamara didn’t live in a bad part of town but, as in any city, there were homeless people and panhandlers. The woman we watched was almost as ancient as Yeva, and she regularly walked up and down the street, muttering to herself. Today, she lay on her back on the sidewalk, making strange noises while waving her limbs like a turtle.
“Is she hurt?” I asked.
“Nope. Just crazy,” said Denis. He and Tamara turned to go inside, but some soft part of me couldn’t abandon her. I sighed.
“I’ll be right in.”
The street was quiet (aside from the old lady) and I cut across without fear of traffic. Reaching the woman, I held out my hand to help her out, trying not to think about how dirty hers was. Like Denis had said, she merely appeared to be in crazy mode today. She wasn’t hurt; she’d apparently just decided to lie down. I shuddered. I tossed the word
crazy
around a lot when it came to Lissa and me, but
this
was truly crazy. I really, really hoped spirit never took us this far. The homeless lady looked surprised at the help but took my hand and began talking excitedly in Russian. When she tried to hug me in gratitude, I stepped back and held up my hands in the international “back off” signal.
She did indeed back off but continued chatting happily. She grabbed the sides of her long coat and held them out like a ball-room skirt and began spinning around and singing. I laughed, surprised that in my grim world, this would cheer me up. I started to cross back over to Tamara’s place. The old woman stopped dancing and began talking happily to me again.
“Sorry, I have to go,” I told her. It didn’t seem to register.
Then she froze mid-sentence. Her expression gave me warning only half a millisecond before my nausea did. In one fluid motion, I spun around to face what was behind me, pulling my stake out as I moved. There was a Strigoi there, tall and imposing, having sneaked up while I was distracted. Stupid, stupid. I’d refused to let Tamara walk home alone, but I’d never even considered danger right outside my—
“No . . .”
I wasn’t sure if I said the word or thought it. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered just then was what my eyes saw before me. Or, rather, what my eyes
thought
they saw. Because surely, surely, I had to be imagining this. It couldn’t be real. Not after all this time.
Dimitri.
I knew him instantly, even though he’d . . . changed. I think in a crowd of a million people, I would have recognized him. The connection between us would allow nothing else. And after being deprived of him for so long, I drank in every feature. The dark, chin-length hair, worn loose tonight and curling slightly around his face. The familiar set of lips, quirked now in an amused yet chilling smile. He even wore the duster he always wore, the long leather coat that could have come straight out of a cowboy movie.
And then . . . there were the Strigoi features. His dark eyes—the eyes I loved—ringed in red. The pale, pale, death-white skin. In life, his complexion had been as tanned as mine, thanks to so much time outdoors. If he opened his mouth, I knew I’d see fangs.
My whole assessment took place in the blink of an eye. I’d reacted fast when I’d felt him—faster than he’d probably expected. I still had the element of surprise, my stake poised and ready. It was perfectly lined up with his heart. I could tell, then and there, that I could make the hit faster than he could defend. But . . .
The eyes. Oh God, the eyes.
Even with that sickening red ring around his pupils, his eyes still reminded me of the Dimitri I’d known. The look in his eyes—the soulless, malicious gleam—that was nothing like him. But there was just enough resemblance to stir my heart, to overwhelm my senses and feelings. My stake was ready. All I had to do was keep swinging to make the kill. I had momentum on my side. . . .
But I couldn’t. I just needed a few more seconds, a few more seconds to drink him in before I killed him. And that’s when he spoke.
“Roza.” His voice had that same wonderful lowness, the same accent . . . it was all just colder. “You forgot my first lesson: Don’t hesitate.”